


House of Anubis & The Five of Excalibur

by marshmallownose



Category: Het huis Anubis, House of Anubis
Genre: Adapting the Het Huis Anubis spinoff to English, I just wanna make it work better for HOA canon, Multi, but I remember the whole plot, if I put too many tags it gives away all the cameos I'm planning on including, if you've ever been curious about the spin-off but don't speak dutch this is for you, mostly since I watched it only once all the way through and have no way of rewatching it, to anyone who's seen de vijf get ready bc this is gonna be FRESH, we deserve this and so I'm gonna try making this, with several liberties taken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallownose/pseuds/marshmallownose
Summary: “A millennium from now, five babes will lie in their cradle each instilled with a heightened sense of touch, taste, sight, smell, or hearing. They have been long foretold as the protectors of Excalibur, and our enemies will exploit the weakness that their youth will curse them with. They will have already attacked the Sixth Sense, and won’t rest until the Five’s defense of the sword is destroyed.”-An adaption of the Dutch Het Huis Anubis spin-off "Het Huis Anubis & De Vijf Van Het Magische Zwaard".
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY Y'ALL HERE WE GO!
> 
> This is not my main priority story right now, but I wanted to put out the prologue just to see if people want more. I know it's not our beloved characters from House of Anubis (though I do have plans for some of them in this story), but this is the spin-off we could have had and I wanted to share it with you in a more fun way than just an explanation of the OG spin-off's plot on a Tumblr post.
> 
> As I said in the tags, I'm taking a lot of liberties (first of which trying to blend a little more Egyptian myth into it instead of just pure Arthurian legend) so bear with me.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy this first bit which has none of our main characters, but some exposition.

The trees thinned out the closer he got toward the clearing, the thick trunks becoming less a tangle of brown and green as they gave way to tall slabs of rock carved with tunes and hieroglyphs.

Merlin sighed, his old bones creaking under his weight with each step until he broke the tree-line. A handful of Arthur’s knights shuffled nervously in their semi circle around the large stone in the center of the clearing. He tried to smile at them reassuringly, but the men were too uncomfortable to meet his eye.

It had been a long, hard battle stained with not only the blood of their brethren, but the blood of their King. And the war was far from over, the fighting now taken to a different front; it would be a very long time before the end of this new struggle.

Merlin stumbled slightly, and the knight closest to him, Galahad, reached out to steady his arm. He nodded gratefully at him, and the young man dipped his head respectfully in acknowledgement. They’d all been strained by this fighting, both old and young, and they all knew there would be no rest despite the imminent threat of the Saxons behind them.

The old warlock found his footing and stood up as tall as his frail frame would allow. The knights around him stilled, as did the air; it was almost as if the forest and stones that surrounded them were holding their breath, waiting for the words of a prophecy they’d long known was coming but had not yet been spoken by a human tongue.

He heaved a labored sigh, unsheathing the sword from where it weighed heavy at his hip and allowing the knights to see it. Some sucked in sharp breaths at the sight, while others merely shook their heads; all of them cast their eyes somberly downward at the sight of the recently late King Arthur’s blessed sword. The memory was still fresh, still painful. Even well after Sir Mordred’s defection to Morgana’s side, the betrayal still smarted most of the men, and after he’d taken Arthur’s life…it was unspeakable.

“My lords,” Merlin rasped, taking a moment to clear his throat, “you have each fought with the strength and valor of many men, but I fear you know as well as I do that though Camelot has won the day, the war against Morgana is far from its end.”

There was a mutter of bitter agreement from Sir Kay, but the rest remained silent. Merlin looked down at the sword in his hand, watching the dim light of morning glint off the steel, and he could still picture the blood that had stained it not a week before. Excalibur did not look like it held their power it did, and yet Merlin could feel it running up his arm and into his chest. “This sword,” he continued, “was forged by the same magic that runs through every fault line, across every land and culture—the very magic that makes the Earth spin.” He took a pause, lifting his eyes from the dead king’s weapon to look at the knights gravely. “It is for this reason Morgana and her acolytes must never come into possession of it. The Dark Druids have taken a heavy loss in the Battle at Camlaan, but they will come out of hiding soon enough to revive themselves and pave the way for the witch. As the goddess Isis has said to me, I shall impart to you:

_“A millennium from now, five babes will lie in their cradle each instilled with a heightened sense of touch, taste, sight, smell, or hearing. They have been long foretold as the protectors of Excalibur, and our enemies will exploit the weakness that their youth will curse them with. They will have already attacked the Sixth Sense, and won’t rest until the Five’s defense of the sword is destroyed.”_

“Wait,” said Galahad from beside Merlin, and Sir Lionel elbowed him sharply in the ribs for interrupting. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, shooting the older knight a dirty look. He ploughed on nonetheless, “But Isis? Is she not out of Ægypte?”

Merlin pursed his lips. “Sir Galahad, you are young, so I shall teach you now. As a Druid myself, I answer to magic itself, in all her faces. It was not the Triple Goddess who approached me with this warning, but Isis, the Mother of Magic. Do you doubt the word of magic herself? Or perhaps simply you doubt the word of a foreign goddess.”

Galahad ducked his head sheepishly, and Merlin softened. “You have much to learn,” he said, eyeing the youngest knight with a renewed interest, “but your time will come.”

Turning his attention back to the prophecy, the warlock looked back down at the sword, then to the large stone they’d gathered around. “No men but the Five can protect this power,” he said grimly. “My magic will hold it here, just as my magic—for now—holds Morgana, but that too will fade with each new era. When the time comes…”

He lifted the sword high above his head and whispered an enchantment, feeling his own power meet the magic of Excalibur in a glorious rush, before plunging the blade deep into the rock,

“…they _must_ prevail.”


	2. Chapter 1: The New Arrivals

_Well, he’s weird. I hope I don’t run into him again,_ Stella thought, agitated, as she hurried herself along the path to the house, keeping her head firmly in the little map of the grounds the pamphlet provided. She was definitely going to get lost in this place.

She took one more turn around a brick building and looked up, a small gasp passing through her lips.

Something about the house was...off-putting. Stella shivered as she approached the front door, gloved hand tightening the coat around her shoulders against the worsening chill.

The suitcases she dragged behind her thumped awkwardly up the pathway to the front door, and she very nearly stumbled on the first step due to their bulk. It really had been rather sudden, the whole decision to pack up and go to a real school and live away from home. She’d never even really slept away for a weekend, let alone a whole term of school.

Stella gulped, trying time quell her nerves. She’d done pretty well keeping her cool throughout the abrupt transition, but now that she actually had to talk to people— _new people_ —she was slightly having a freak out.

_I almost had heart palpations in the cab, how am I meant to talk to my housemother? Or worse, the other kids? Oh god what if they ask too many questions about my gloves? I can’t do it I can’t do it I can’t do it—_

She blinked and realized she was standing in front of the door. In her panic, she hadn’t noticed she was still moving up the steps.

_Great start, Stella,_ she thought to herself, forcing herself to raise an elbow up to knock on the door. Even with the thick padding of the gloves against her skin, hitting her hands hard against anything caused a ton of discomfort—discomfort that was rather difficult to describe. Thankfully, after the terrible pandemic two years back, it had become rather taboo for many people to shake hands. That excuse was growing thin now, but she could blame it on her anxiety, couldn’t she?

Stella was readying herself to tap on the door, when it swung open. She froze for a moment, eyes wide behind her glasses, thinking for a moment it had opened by itself.

_Ooohhhh my god,_ she thought, trying not to hyperventilate.

Then, a small, friendly looking blonde woman poked her head around the door. “Hello there!” she chirped. Stella realized that she still had her elbow stupidly sticking out into empty space and, deeply embarrassed, quickly lowered her arm to her side. The woman’s eyes tracked her gloved hand as it fell, then back up to her face. “I’m Arlene, your housemother,” she said warmly. “You must be Stella.”

“Stella!” Stella blurted in agreement, and she had to stifle a groan. “Stella, yeah. That’s me.”

“Wonderful. Welcome to Anubis House. Why don’t you come in; it’s a bit chilly out there.” Arlene didn’t seem weirded out even after Stella’s humiliating spectacle, and for that she was incredibly grateful. Still, as she stepped over the threshold she couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit colder inside than out.

Arlene reached around Stella and grabbed one of the suitcases, holding it by her side as though it weighed nothing. The housemother was stronger than her appearance suggested, it seemed. That sparked a thought in the back of her mind, which gave her pause.

“M-Miss?” Stella managed, curious despite her nerves. “On the Internet, it lists a Trudy Rehmann as the housemother for Anubis House.”

Arlene paused for a fraction of a second, but her smile never wavered. “Oh,” she tittered. “She was the old housemother in this position, but she’s since been removed from the staff here. Administration must have forgotten to remove her from the website. We have also since removed the position of caretaker if you were wondering who Asaar Allfather was. It’s just me here now, but with only five students to take care of, I’m sure I can manage.”

Stella nodded, satisfied enough with that answer. “There are only five of us?” she asked, feeling the knot of dread in her chest loosen. On the website, it said that most houses could accommodate up to ten residents at a time. _That_ news had made her head spin for days.

“Why, yes,” said Arlene. “Each of you has extremely special requests to accommodate your conditions that we thought it best to keep you all in the same house with people who will understand your particularities.”

Stella blinked, brushing aside the way the words came across as rather condescending to focus on the more important takeaway:

“My housemates also have... _conditions?”_

Arlene’s smile widened a fraction. “Indeed they do,” she said. “In fact, one is already upstairs.”

* * *

Peter pressed his face up the glass, waiting for the other residents to arrive. He was determined to figure out what the deal was with this place. It was too perfect, too sudden. His parents had called it an offer they couldn’t refuse and a wonderful opportunity for him to experience such a prestigious education at a facility that would be more accommodating of his frequent use of spray deodorant than his high school had been. They’d never had a problem woth his school before, and suddenly—like magic—they decided it was high time to ship him off to boarding school without even asking him. Sure, there’d been the letter the headmaster had sent him personally, but...

But did it have to be all the way in England? He knew his mother wanted him to embrace his British heritage a little more, but they could have just taken another trip to London and called it a day. He already missed Dublin. Not that he had many friends there, but he highly doubted he’d make many more in this place.

_Speaking of new friends..._

Peter’s gaze locked on his newest subject as she rounded the bend. Raising his voice recorder to his lips, he clicked it on. “Year: 2022. Month: August. Day: 31st. Time: 10:58 am. The second resident to arrive after myself. Subject is female, probably 15 or 16. Darker complexion, braided hair, glasses, and—“ Peter squinted, trying to get a better look “— _two_ suitcases. Blue coat. Red gloves. She is raising an...elbow to knock on the door. Perhaps frightened of germs. Will detail more later.”

He clicked off the recorder and stepped away from the window so he could jot down a few notes in his case file. The alarm on his watch went off, and Peter startled. _11:00 on the hour._ Sure enough, the scent of _sterile_ was fading, and he began to feel a little faint. Quick as a flash, he grabbed a canister from his desk and sprayed himself generously. The nausea passed, and he breathed deeply. The last thing he needed was to pass out on his first day.

Crisis averted, he resumed his position at the window, waiting for the next resident to arrive.

* * *

Marcel was having a _very_ animated conversation. He laughed in all the right places, and it was generally going really well. Maybe he could even get her number by the end of it. Oh! Oh, wow she was _really_ into it. Marcel leaned closer, lips puckering as he gently closed his eyes. He wondered how she’d taste—hopefully better than sambal. 

“E-Excuse me? Why are you, er, kissing a tree?”

Marcel’s eyes snapped open and his daydream screeched to a halt. “What?” he exclaimed, whipping around to face the startled girl who’d interrupted him. “I wasn’t!”

The girl blinked at him, clearly wigged out. “Y-Yes you were,” she stuttered.

Marcel felt his ears burn with embarrassment. “No!” he snapped back. “What? Where you spying on me?”

The girl’s eyes widened behind her glasses and she shook her head vigorously. “No! I just— _huh? What?_ Never mind. _Sorry._ Sorry to bother you. Bye. Enjoy your tree.” And with that, she took off down the path, her suitcases bouncing along aggressively behind her.

Marcel watched her go, then face palmed. “Whatever,” he reassured himself. “She was weird anyway.”

* * *

Raphael looked up at the house. He just...wasn’t sure about this. It had been all of five minutes since the cab carrying his father had pulled away from the school, and he still hadn’t moved.

Adjusting one headphone awkwardly, he stood there, examining the place. He thought he saw a face in one of the upstair windows, but he blinked and it was gone.

_Weird,_ he thought.

A few moments later, the door swung open and a little blonde woman popped her head out. “Hello, dear,” she said, and even through the muffling of the headphones, her voice was piercing. “I would feel much better if you came inside; it’s autumn, you know. You’re the fourth to arrive, and I’ve been preparing a little lunch so you can all get to know each other.”

Raphael looked over his shoulder uncertainly where his father had left him with some parting words:

_ “Don’t get yourself into any trouble. You’re a reflection of me, young man. You’d best remember that.” _

He sucked in a deep breath, looked back over at the woman, and smiled politely. “Of course,” he said, and started up the stairs. “Thank you.”

* * *

Anastasia was unimpressed with what she saw. When her parents had told her she’d been asked to attend a boarding school built by members of her family, she’d been intrigued despite being contented to remain at home with her luxuries in a bedroom of her own with things just the way she liked and needed them to be.

Now, though, she was regretting her compliance. If she’d known the place was going to look so dated, she’d have put her foot down.

Straightening her posture, she drew herself up to her full height. She was a Frobisher-Smythe, and this was her ancestral home...or whatever. Even if her side of the family had never even lived there, it hardly mattered. She was going to walk in like she owned the place—even if it _was_ ugly.

Anastasia knocked sharply on the door, taking a moment to tuck a stray blonde curl behind the arm of her sunglasses. She had to appear collected, in control.

The door swung open to reveal a petite, smiling blonde woman. “I’m Arlene, your housemother. You must be Ana,” she said, and Anastasia bristled slightly.

“It’s Anastasia,” she corrected brusquely. _“Anastasia Frobisher-Smythe.”_

Arlene shook her head and laughed slightly. “Forgive me, Anastasia. I didn’t mean to offend you. Come inside. I’m sure you’re curious about the house, given your connection to it. Your bags are already in your room, as I suspect is your roommate.”

Anastasia sniffed imperiously at the word ‘ _roommate_ ’, and brushed past Arlene into the foyer. _Even more ugly inside. A pity._

“Have you updated the light fixtures in my quarters?” she asked, not deigning herself to look at the older woman.

“Yes, the special bulbs you requested can be turned on with a special switch,” Arlene answered, tone as friendly as ever.

“Good,” she said. “It’s important that they work.”

“They do, I assure you.”

Anastasia nodded, looking at the decor. Very Egyptian. _What strange taste._ “Alright. I think I’ll go rest now. The journey here has been _most_ taxing.”

Arlene dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Lunch will be in about thirty minutes; you’re the last to arrive. I hope you find everything to your liking.

“We’ve been expecting you all for a _long_ time.”


End file.
